


Even Fouler Things

by kmfillz



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Betrayal, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Evil Hawke, F/M, Forced to Watch, Paralysis, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-10-07 21:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10370010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmfillz/pseuds/kmfillz
Summary: When a spell leaves Fenris and Isabela temporarily paralyzed, Isabela discovers Hawke's true character.(Fill forthis kink meme prompt.)





	

This was not the direction he had been expecting danger from. That had been Fenris's crucial mistake. Since he'd become a fugitive, he'd learned to expect danger from every side. Those who greeted him with a smile in the morning could be bought off by Danarius's minions in the afternoon. He'd learned not to expect too much, and expecting anyone to be worthy of his trust was too much.

But in the three years he'd spent in Kirkwall, he had started to trust Hawke. This woman that the dwarf Anso had accidentally thrown into his path had saved his life more than once. He had felt a kinship to Hawke, who had also come to Kirkwall fleeing something, and who had made a home here. She had encouraged him to open up, and with surprise he found himself beginning to wonder if he could be with someone, without pain, without fear. When at last they slept together, the feeling had nearly overwhelmed him. And so he ran, not from Kirkwall but from her embrace. He distanced himself from her emotionally, even as he continued to work by her side. She had made no more advances on him -- out of respect, he'd foolishly thought at the time -- and he had not pried into her feelings, had not looked too closely at her reaction to his rejection of her. This was not intended as a courtesy. Truthfully, he had been afraid of seeing someone who had helped him again be hurt by his actions. He could bear much, but not that.

Which brought him to the present. Hadriana lay dead. He had thought the sight would bring him pleasure, but looking at her corpse cooling on floor before him only made his rage burn hotter, futile though it was. She was dead, but the torment she had caused him was not over. They had tracked her here, he and the three people in the world he truly considered friends. Isabela, the beautiful pirate who radiated freedom like someone who had never known captivity and never would. Aveline, the stolid guard-captain, as dependable as the rock beneath his feet. And Hawke. Always Hawke, ready to save the day, to make the kill. Hadriana had fought them with all her sick magic, summoning demons and even fouler things that had no name Fenris knew. The three of them had cut down demon after demon, pressed Hadriana back, and he had seen her weakening. He could almost feel her flesh beneath his blade when her curse hit him.

Every limb in his body stiffened. His greatsword fell from his grasp, fingers unable to curl around its hilt. He had watched, helpless, as the same curse hit Isabela, leaving her disabled and defenseless. His breath caught in his throat. For the first time, he considered the possibility that they would be defeated, that Hadriana would win in the end. But Aveline, brave woman, had roared and lunged at Hadriana, leaving the mage vulnerable for one critical moment as Hawke plunged her daggers into her back. And suddenly, it was over.

Except Hadriana had still won. He knew that now. At the time, all he had known was that he and Isabela were still frozen in place. Aveline had checked the mage's pulse ("Nothing"), her eyes ("Nothing"), and had declared her dead. In contradiction to all battle magic he had ever witnessed, Hadriana's curse had outlasted its mistress.

"Figures," Aveline huffed. "The _one_ time we head out without Anders or Merrill, we have unknown magical traps to undo."

Aveline had set out for the city immediately to fetch one of the aforesaid mages, leaving Hawke behind to guard Isabela and Fenris.

Hawke, Fenris had always known, was a woman of action. He had never seen her stay still for long. And she was so _very_ easily bored...

* * *

Isabela squeezed her eyes shut and tried to bend her right elbow. No dice. This was ridiculous. Magic wasn't supposed to work like this; she would have bet her boots on it. She opened her eyes and looked ahead of her, directly at Fenris. Not that she could look anywhere else, since her blighted _neck_ refused to move. Fenris looked -- well, he should have looked ridiculous, frozen mid-blow with arms in the air, his hands joined over his head in a pose that, devoid of his sword, looked a bit like a dance. Or a prayer. She drew her gaze down that beautiful (sadly motionless) body. Yes, he could be a naughty Chantry boy, too absorbed in his devotions to move away as a sexy pirate leaned over to whisper wicked things in his ear. Fenris's eyes met hers, and she crinkled them at him, wishing she could move her mouth to tell him what she was thinking. He wasn't as stuffy as he first appeared. A bit skittish, but no prude, and Isabela had a way with skittish creatures. He liked her dirty jokes; she had even persuaded him to contribute some of his own once or twice. She enjoyed his laughter, rare as it was. Fenris did not eye-smile back at Isabela, but he did look less annoyed for a moment, before he broke eye contact.

In the background, Hawke was rustling around doing Void-knows-what. For the first half hour after Aveline left, Hawke had kept up a running monologue, reassuring phrases like "Aveline will be back in no time" (sweet of her to say, but a lie -- these caverns were a few hours' walk from the city), angry rants about stupid Tevinter magisters casting stupid Tevinter spells, and random thoughts that popped into her head, such as what if all of them sailed to Antiva and started an import business there. After a while, Hawke's voice began to crack, and she'd fallen silent. She'd busied herself cleaning her blades, then Isabela's daggers, then Fenris's sword. She'd returned the weapons to her immobile companions, whispering "There you go, good as new," as Isabela felt Hawke's hand brush against Isabela's neck as she gently slipped Isabela's daggers into their sheaths. Fenris's greatsword was a trickier task. Hawke had to stand on her tiptoes to get the right angle to slide the sword into its bandolier, and when the sword finally slid in, Hawke lost her balance and tripped into Fenris, arms wrapping around his motionless torso to steady herself. Isabela could swear that Fenris had flinched at that, his eyes becoming wider and pained, but just for a moment. Hawke giggled at her mishap, and released him. After that she'd taken to pacing round and round the chamber, and Isabela, frustrated at her inability to flex so much as her little toe, lost herself in daydreams.

It had been maybe an hour, when Hawke turned to her immobile charges for entertainment. She rummaged around in that oversized pack she carried everywhere, and came out with two of the ugliest cleric's cowls Isabela had ever seen in her life. She plopped one on Isabela's head, adjusted it to her liking, and cracked up. Isabela rolled her eyes.

"You want to see how funny it looks?" Hawke asked her, mischievously. Isabela rolled her eyes again, but Hawke wasn't waiting for a response, and soon Fenris too sported an ugly hat. At another time, Isabela might have found the sight amusing, but she could see anger in Fenris's eyes at being treated like a doll. If she could have, she would have told Hawke to get a better sense of humor. She tensed her jaw, but her mouth would not open. Fenris's mouth must be awfully dry, she thought to herself, as Hawke admired her handiwork. He must have been drawing a breath or snarling one of his snarls at the witch bitch when he was frozen, because his mouth was slightly open, his lips parted a finger's width.

"Mmmm, nice, but needs something more," Hawke announced. She bent down to rummage through her pack again. Isabela heard Hawke chuckle, and she strained the limits of her peripheral vision trying to see what Hawke had taken out. When she saw what it was, she shut her eyes in despair. _Hawke,_ no _. This is not a good idea._ Hawke twirled around gaily to wrap the Tevinter-style magister robe, so recently stripped from Hadriana's corpse, around Fenris's shoulders. "This will do _marvelously_. You'll look so fetching with this on." Although she wasn't facing Isabela, Isabela could hear the smile in her voice. Fenris's eyes burned with rage.

With that, Hawke set about removing Fenris's armor. His bandolier came off first, the sheathed sword giving Hawke extra leverage to swing it up over his raised arms. Next his chestplate was unbuckled and slid off him along with his pauldrons. Hawke leaned into him as she unbuttoned the thin coat that was now all that stood between Fenris's chest and the elements. It looked like she was whispering something into his ears, but the only word Isabela was sure she heard was "love". A series of emotions she couldn't identified flickered through Fenris's eyes. Hawke undid the last button on his coat and peeled it open, sliding her hand down Fenris's bare chest. Isabela was beginning to get the sense Hawke had forgotten about the magister robe.

"The only way I'm going to get this off you is buy cutting it, and you wouldn't like that, would you, Fenris?" Hawke abruptly let go of his coat and pulled down his leggings. If he had been wearing any small-clothes, they must now be lying in the pile of leggings at his feet, Isabela noted to herself, in a kind of horrified daze. Fenris's genitals were completely revealed. "Don't be shy," Hawke was crooning. "I've seen it all before, and I know Isabela doesn't mind the show." Isabela did mind. Isabela minded a lot, damn you, Hawke. Her idea of "a show" involved more oil and less Fenris looking like he wanted to put his fist through Hawke's chest. The expression in his eyes was eerily similar to the one he'd worn when he'd told them about his old master's apprentice. With a sick feeling, Isabela realized that Hawke was on well-trodden ground. _Fuck, Hawke. What are you doing?!_

* * *

Hawke was doing what she'd wanted to do for years, what she'd gotten to do for one precious night before the stupid elf _dumped_ her, walked out on her like she was a one-night strumpet, muttering some excuse about his feelings. Well, she had _feelings_ too, and he'd stomped all over them. She had waited for him to come crawling back. He'd say something like, "Hawke, I'm sorry, I was overwhelmed by how much I love you and want you," and then she'd get to touch that amazing tattooed body again and enjoy herself in every way possible. Except he hadn't done it. She'd waited for months, watched him for signs of regret or remorse, but nothing. He didn't even look at her with the desire he had in the months leading up to that night. He barely looked at her at all. He ignored her as if she were nothing.

She wasn't nothing. She was -- among many other enviable and praise-worthy traits (Varric said he would write a book about her someday) -- a fantastic lay, and if he didn't remember what he was missing out on, she could remind him. There was nothing else to do in this dank hole in the wilderness, and she hated sitting around twiddling her thumb. Especially when she could twiddle other things instead.

Hawke's eyes wandered down Fenris's body once more. Lucky Isabela, getting to see _this._

* * *

He couldn't look down, but he could feel her hands sliding over his chest, around his neck. He felt a spark of pleasure as she tickled his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. It revolted him that she could do that to him, make him feel sensations he didn't want to feel. He'd been treated like a puppet before, but never by someone he had willingly let into his life. He was a fool, and he was paying the price. She would pay the price with her death, just as Hadriana had. He held onto that thought, clung to it like a rope over a chasm, as Hawke's mouth closed around his cock and began to suck.

* * *

Isabela couldn't look, and couldn't look away. She cast her gaze about, tried to stare over Fenris's shoulder, and made the mistake of catching his eyes. She could have drowned in the shame and hatred in them. She squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn't real. This wasn't Hawke.

She opened her eyes to see Hawke let Fenris's now fully erect cock slide out of her mouth with a "pop". Hawke licked her way up his body, bit his nipples until a sound like a sob came from Fenris's mouth. Hearing it, Hawke rose and pressed her face to his in a parody of a loving kiss. As she kissed him, stroked her hands up his arms, whose position now reminded Isabela of a prisoner shackled to chains above his head. Hawke moved back, and Isabela could see her smiling. _Smiling_ as this were one of her jokes. She reached out with her left hand to trace his reddened lips, while her right hand crawled down his body like a poisonous spider to stroke his cock. She worked Fenris rhythmically, and Isabela could hear Fenrises' harsh breathing from across the space between them. Hawke slid a finger between Fenris's lips, and Isabela entertained the fantasy that Fenris would break free at that moment and bite the offending digit off.

No such luck. Hawke brought Fenris to completion without so much a word of protest. Every inch of Isabela was tense, aching with the need to reach for her daggers. Isabela could reliably kill a man from fifteen paces. Or a woman, in this case. She only needed to be able to _move._ But only one person in this room could move, and that was the woman whom Isabela had until this day called friend.

* * *

Hawke left Fenris like that, standing mostly naked, semen drying on his bunched up leggings. She hadn't entirely forgiven him, and he could suffer this indignity in punishment.

Turned on herself, Hawke rubbed one out herself, then lay down for a nap. Honestly, what was there to guard against here? The slavers had killed all the spiders, and they'd killed all the slavers. There were only so many games she could play to amuse herself, especially with Fenris and Isabela indisposed. She removed the hardest objects from her pack, fluffed it up like a pillow, and went to sleep.

* * *

Time stretched on in what felt like an eternity. Isabela wouldn't look at Fenris. Fenris wouldn't look at her. She couldn't move, or speak, or scream, and oh, how she wanted to scream.

She'd drifted into a kind of trance when finally she heard voices outside. Every motionless bit of her came awake as the voices neared at an agonizingly slow pace. Hawke sat up and stretched. "Finally!" she said, with the air of someone blind to the danger she was in. Isabela bided. Soon. _Soon._

"Oh, for the love of--" Anders stepped into Isabela's field of vision. He was cocking an eyebrow at Fenris's nakedness and the mess on his leggings.

"Guess they did have to pass the time somehow," Aveline said with equanimity.

"I suppose they did," said Anders absent-mindedly, already staring in that way mages do that makes it clear they're looking another world the rest of us can't see. "This shouldn't have lasted as long as it... Hmm... Oh. I see." He lifted his staff and brought it down once, hard, on the stone floor.

Several things happened all at once.

Isabela reached for her daggers.

Fenris lunged at Hawke.

Hawke reached for her knockout powder.

Fenris tripped over the leggings still around his ankles.

A wall of ice rose up between the three of them.

"Will SOMEONE explain WHAT is going on?" Aveline boomed. Anders was staring at Fenris, who ignored him to pull his leggings up with a snarl. From the glowing cracks appearing on Anders' face, Anders had figured it out.

The ice evaporated into mist, but before Isabela could say a word, she was choking on knockout powder.

Coming to was not pleasant -- that stuff always left whorls dancing in front of her eyes, and she needed some fresh air to clear her head out. Fresh air, unfortunately, was in short supply underground. Everyone in the room was groaning and wiping their eyes. As her vision cleared, Isabela saw that "everyone in the room" did not include Hawke. She'd drugged them and fled. Smart girl. When Isabela caught up to her... Aveline coughed and choked a bit, then repeated her question from before. "What is going on? Someone. Tell me. Now."

Fenris said, in the softest voice she'd ever heard from him, "No."

Aveline scowled.

Isabela cleared her throat, a little rough from the hours of paralysis. "Hawke decided to throw in with the slavers." OK, it wasn't exactly the truth, but it was close enough. What Hawke had done to Fenris -- what she'd fucking made Isabela _watch_ \-- was not that far from what the dead mage woman had planned. Torture. Lack of autonomy. There are some things that aren't right, and Hawke had crossed that line.

Aveline was disbelieving at first, but Isabela quickly added some corroborative (and entirely fictional) detail, and Aveline's disbelief turned to dismay. Neither Fenris nor Anders said anything to correct her story. Anders looked upset. Fenris's expression was blank, but as Aveline bought into the story, she saw Fenris's shoulders relax. If he didn't want Aveline to know, Isabela wouldn't be the one to tell her. Too many people had already seen him vulnerable. She knew what it was not to want that.

She walked home by Fenris's side, playing idly with her dagger. She'd catch Hawke sooner or later.

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first fic.


End file.
